


Between the leaves

by MrKsan



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrKsan/pseuds/MrKsan
Summary: George is a florist. Gene is the new healer who owns the pharmacy next door
Relationships: George Luz/Eugene Roe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Heavy Artillery Rare Pair Exchange 2021





	Between the leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromcrossroadstoking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromcrossroadstoking/gifts).



The sun was softly shining when George opened the glass door of his flower shop. The water droplets shone and splattered as he watered the outdoor plants; the leaves making a soft, satisfied hum that make George smile, humming back in tune.

He whistled to the yellow daisies that just started to open their petals, the tiny heads bowing in an almost humanly-shy gesture. George couldn’t help but bow back, gesturing widely to the bashful flowers.

Spring was always soft, like sleepy mumbles in the morning. It was a welcome change to the icy Winter, and George preferred it to the Summer. Summer, in which every flower and plant decided to proclaim its bloom and availability, as loudly as possible. Like a bunch of horny birds. Really, George could go without the noise and the pheromones that made his nose itchy and his ears bleed.

Sometimes George couldn’t help but regret inheriting his mom’s green thumb.

But Spring was gentle. Spring was when George remembered why he loved his magic, feeling the earth slowly warming and the plants slowly waking up.

With the sun barely up, and the air still chilly, he had time to consider his chores for the day. A few deliveries to the local shops in the early morning hours, then it would be time to open his own shop to the public. Evening was reserved for tending to the greenhouse and the wide flower gardens he had behind the shop.

George also hoped to check the old pharmacy, sitting just next door to his. He and the sweet old lady that ran the place had made an agreement last year for George to bring freshly potted herbs and the odd flowers every few weeks. But for the last few months the pharmacy had been closed, the windows dark and the few flowers planted in the front dried and abandoned (and George couldn’t help the tiny ping of sadness at the sad, dried flowers). It was nothing unusual for a shop to be closed around here - it was a small town after all, with its people slowly aging and the young moving to bigger places - but George heard the daisies mumble, and the hydrangeas loved to gossip about the living.

And the latest gossip makes George restless to check the little pharmacy.

* * *

While the pharmacy was just next door to George's own shop, he didn’t like visiting it when it was all dark and shuttered. It felt almost wrong for the place to be closed, once occupied by the almost overwhelming presence of Mama Roe, smelling constantly of sharp herbs and warmed oils. Like the town lost one of its organs.

So when George heard the noise coming from inside the shop, he couldn’t help but smile.

The pharmacy didn’t look much different - small and old, the display windows dusty and shuttered and yellowing around the edges, the wood growing mold in the corners. 

But the dried, poor plants were replaced with fresh ones; George could hear a satisfied mumble from the red and purple geraniums, could smell the fresh earth and recently watered soil. The several cardboard boxes that stood guard next to the door were as much of a clue to the new owner.

George smiled to himself, feeling excited to meet Mama Roe’s replacement. The lady had been nothing if not kind and fascinating, always offering a warm smile and fresh tea when George delivered her his herbs.

The shop’s bell tingled lightly when the door opened, and the man who stepped outside was definitely not the sweet old lady that George expected.

“Can I help you?” George was immediately enamored by the lilting, soft accent. The slim and dark-haired man blinked at him, and his dark, sharp, brows furrowed in confusion.

The damn hydrangeas hadn’t mentioned that the new pharmacist was cute. And now George was just staring like a fool, cursing his treacherous flowers for not warning him before hand.

“Hi,” George greeted him, as cheerful as he could while trying cover his surprised delight. “I’m George Luz, the florist next door?”

“Alright,” The man said simply, bending down to lift a couple of the boxes. George hurried to help him.

“I used to deliver plants and herbs to the lady who ran the shop - Mama Roe?”

The man sighed heavily as he dropped the boxes on the counter. “I’m her grandson,” he said, not turning to look at George, long fingers busy with the packages. “She - uh, she passed. A few months ago.”

“Oh.” And now George felt like a fool. “Sorry. She was a lovely lady,” George tried, wincing at himself. “Always used to offer me tea. Wild rose tea, said it’s perfect for a sweet man like myself.”

The man smiled - a tiny, almost non-existent lift of his lips. it seemed to light his dark eyes a bit. Or it just might be the sun, burning through the dusty windows.

“Wild Rose is known for its calming properties,” the man agreed, smiling almost mischievously at George. “Eugene Roe. You said you used to deliver plants for Mamère?”

“Oh, yeah!” George said. “Herbs and flowers, fresh from our gardens.”

Roe nodded, turning to step outside again and George followed.

“Well,” Roe said. “I would need a supply of fresh herbs, when I’m re-opening the shop again.”

George grinned. “I think this is a start of a great friendship, Gene.”

Roe - _Gene -_ blinked at him, but his mouth quirked in a slight smile. George saw it as a win.

* * *

The bell to the pharmacy rang softly as George pushed through the glass door. The mountain of boxes he carried blocked his view, threatening to topple down any minute now - but damn if he would make another trip to his truck. Relying on his legs to remember the layout of the place, he pushed through into the pharmacy.

Only it didn’t go as planned, and his treacherous shoes slipped, the boxes tilting dangerously to the side -

When his view was suddenly cleared and the boxes’ content save, as two of the boxes were pulled down.

Two dark eyes blinked at him. George couldn’t help but smile at the frowning face before him.

“Thanks, Gene,” he said, proceeding to carry his precious delivery to the worn counter. It was already full with white and brown paper bags, the prescription written in Gene’s spidery writing. A dusty mortar and pestle sat just at the edge, and George nudged it farther into the counter.

“No problem,” Gene mumbled, setting the boxes beside him. His dark hair was wild he looked like he didn’t have his morning coffee yet, blinking almost owlishly at George. He couldn’t help but find it extremely adorable.

George gave him a wide grin, starting to unpack the fresh herbs he brought - some mint, some ginger, a crazy amount of sage, and bundles of aloe vera. The sharp smell was already making George’s eyes water.

“Doing alright, Gene?” George asked, watching as Gene checked the herbs. The plants whispered softly, almost restlessly, as Gene gently caressed the leaves between his pale fingers.

Gene sent him a distracted smile. “Gonna be a long day,” he said. “Need to prepare for the Summer.”

“Sunscreen and sunburn creams, right?” George asked, and was delighted at Gene’s surprised raise of an eyebrow. “That’s what Mama Roe was making this time of the year.”

“Yeah,” Gene nodded, eyes darkening a bit in memory.

George had been delivering to Gene’s pharmacy for a few weeks now. The healer was a quiet man, with an obvious dedication to his craft. The town’s people seemed to love him, too - if the amount of orders Gene had on a daily basis is any indication.

George found it adorable how easily Gene made the cranky old ladies love him.

“Oh,” George said, trying to alleviate the somber mood he’d accidentally created. “Got you an extra.”

He pointed to the dark red poppies who shyly hid behind the bushy mint. Gene reached for them, eyes sparkling in curiosity.

“What for?” He asked.

“Just thought it would bring some color,” George said, gesturing at the brown shelves, cluttered with gray and brown boxes, the dry herb bundles that dangled from the ceiling. “To the shop, you know. Liven the place up a bit.”

“Really?” Gene turned to him, sending him a tiny, almost teasing, smile. “That’s awfully nice of you, George.”

George didn’t blush. It was simply the heat of the early Summer that was getting to him.

The poppy, as if sensing his struggle, chose that moment to open its petals, blooming brightly.

Gene’s smile grew wider, and it was almost as gorgeous as the flower itself. 

George made a mental note to bring more flowers.


End file.
